Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. “I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. “Wow, congratulations, Martin. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. ” He awoke.
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